The Night We Can't Forget
by Immokk
Summary: Erik and Christine.


**A/N: Kind of a spoiler for Love Never Dies but can stand alone.**

**There are probably a lot of errors in this so accept my apologies!**

**A/N 2: I forgot to mention, as I usually do, that this is something I just do for fun- usually in my lunch break, just because I like the story of POTO. If you can't say anything nice, just don't bother. If you don't like it, please just don't read it- no-one is forcing you, no-one is asking you to, no-one who likes the writing will actually care what you have to say and most people that don't just have the good sense not to read.**

**All flames will be deleted, one way or another. I have already deleted one (from someone who didn't even log in, because they couldn't be bothered, yet took the time to read it from start to finish and THEN took the time to write a short review). Some people say they appreciate all reviews, those are the people who take the writing seriously. Although I enjoy it, it is not something I had ever intended to do as a living and therefore don't care about what the critics think. If you don't like it, that's absolutely fine and this, in itself, doesn't bother me. For every one person that enjoys any of my stories there will be 10/ 20/ 30 or more than don't.**

**But at least be polite and just don't bother. People on here do not write to offend other people, they write because they enjoy it and hope others will get some enjoyment out of it also. Have the courtesy, if you don't like it, just to go to another story and leave mine alone.**

**For everyone else, this is just a bit of fun.**

**The Night We Can't Forget**

'What are _you_ doing here?'

Christine stared at the blackness from which the voice seemed to escape. She had known he was there but not because she could see him, she could barely see her own feet when she looked down, no it was because she could _sense_ him, smell him… she could almost _feel_ him. Sometimes it was as though he was everywhere.

And now to answer his question, a question she knew that he would ask and yet still, she had come with no reasonable answer. How could she tell him that she was there because that was where her heart had led her, had drawn her… _coaxed_ her.

'How did you find me?' he asked through blackness, his voice deep and scratchy, rougher than she had ever heard it and yet, it still somehow swelled within her heart, like the blood that flowed there.

She swallowed the bitter, metallic taste from her mouth, the one that always appeared when he seemed angry with her. Standing completely still, cold in the night air, she was almost scared to speak, she was so afraid that her voice might betray her. 'I… er…' she coughed, trying in vain to hold her voice steady, 'I followed Madame Giry,'

The words were met with a low, throaty grunt and then almost deafening silence, as Christine simply stood there unsure. The night was as dark and black as she had ever seen, the sky held no light at all, there were no stars nor a moon to light her way and it was cold, bitter almost and part of her wished she had never left her home.

Suddenly nervous, she asked, 'Where are you?'

'Nowhere,' he replied, his voice quiet and distant.

'I can't see you,' she said.

'Does that not please you?' he asked, his tone acid. Her heart shifted painfully.

_What could she say?_

'I don't like to repeat myself, so don't make me do it,' he hissed, the anger in his voice was unmistakable and yet, there seemed something else. She had become so used to his sound, his timbre, that she could sense little changes, little _differences_.

'I wanted to…' her throat was dry and the words got caught, coming out in stutters. 'I needed to make sure that you were… _alright_,'

'For me?' he asked. 'Or for you?'

She gritted her teeth at the words but they cut her all the same and she knew, deep down, that it was no more than she deserved for all she had put him through. Too young and naïve to know any better, and although she had not hurt him deliberately, she now knew that she could have tried to stop it at any time.

'And when you know?' he asked.

'When I…'

'When you know how I am,' he snapped, with frustration instead of his usual irritation. 'What will you do?'

She sighed inwardly, 'I will leave you to your peace, Erik,'

'Irrespective of my answer,'

Christine could not tell if this was a question or a statement and so chose to say nothing, knowing that no answer was enough and any response would simply cause more hurt. There was no need for that now and she was starting to realise what a horrible mistake she had made.

'I am alright,' he said simply, after a moment of reflective quiet.

Her chest almost heaved but she sucked in a breath, as deep as she could manage and said,' You wish me gone,'

'Did you really expect differently?'

_Did she?_

'Am I alright…' he muttered to himself and then, 'Did you think that coming here would in some way_ help_ me? Did you think that I would once again fall at your feet, Christine? Did you perhaps think I might _beg _you to stay with me once you arrived?'

His words hurt her as only his words could. They shattered her heart and, like thin sheets of glass, each layer broke into shards digging into whatever soul she somehow had left.

It was a mistake.

'I shouldn't have come,' she said, turning to leave as she battled not only the threatening torrent of tears but, also, the urge to throw herself at his mercy. Knowing that she had been so wrong…

Almost completely blind she began to move but stopped dead as she realised, without hearing a thing, that he was standing in front of her. She had not even heard him stir, let alone walk to her.

'No,' he hissed, close to her ear and she could just make out the shadow of his frame in front of her. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin and shivered in spite of herself, as her skin prickled with the sensation. 'You shouldn't have,'

She steeled herself. 'I just wanted to see you,' she said softly.

'You're due to marry,' he pointed out, still close… _too_ close. 'Barely a week away, is it not? The _happy_ day?'

She swallowed.

'What's wrong Christine?' he sniped. 'Did you forget to bring my invitation?'

It felt like a punch, his mockery, it always felt like an attack to her. More painful than anything, anyone else's hands could ever inflict on her body. His words punctured what really mattered, they punctured her core, her soul.

'I won't let your words hurt me,' she said, with far more poise than she really felt.

'How could they hurt you, Christine?' he asked coolly. 'You are incapable of hurt, you are heartless,'

'Heartless?' she gasped, unable to continue the pretence, unable to hold herself any longer. 'How can you say that of me?'

'You don't need me to tell you what you have done to me Christine, you looked on as I broke down,' Erik said. 'You saw all of my weakness,'

'And it moved me…'

'It did nothing,'

'I kissed you,'

'To free your boy,' he snapped. A beat. 'To break me,'

She squeezed her eyes closed, cheeks hot with tears.

'It _worked_,' he hissed, his breathing heavy. 'For God's sake, how can you do this to me? Why are you here? What does this achieve except to rake things up again… just… _Go away_,'

She felt his turn to the side, begin to move away but almost without thought she reached out, blindly catching his hand in hers, 'Please…'

He stopped but did not turn back, his hand was cool in hers, but she held on hoping that he might face her again, be close to her.

'What more can I do to make you leave?' he asked. 'I let you both go,'

'I made a choice,' she said.

'Then go and be with him and let me live the rest of my pitiful existence in at least the peace I think I am entitled to,'

'I chose you, Erik,' her heart thumped hard in her chest. 'I kissed you, I chose _you_,'

'That kiss was nothing but a ploy,' he spat.

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, despite his words he did not pull away from her and she squeezed his fingers. 'But what a beautiful ploy, if so…'

He turned to her and she could just make out the white of his mask in the night. 'You chose me,'

'Yes, Erik,' she said gently.

'Why?' he asked.

She took his hand and placed it on her chest, over her heart. 'Because my heart told me to,'

He let his hand linger before pulling it back to his side, and in that moment she wished that she could see his eyes. Those wonderful eyes, with all of the beauty, pain, and colours of the world within them.

'Do you understand, Erik?' she asked softly, moving her feet closer to him. 'Don't you see? I needed to find you, I needed to…'

Words were failing her, as they often did around him. When he was close, especially this close, her words seemed jumbled or futile, like no matter what she said it could never be quite enough.

Again she reached out, this time her fingertips found his elbow and she ran her hand up to his neck… she felt his warm skin beneath her palm and she cupped his jaw, bringing herself onto her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was soft and when his arms slipped around her waist he made no effort to deepen it but the closeness was enough to move her heart. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, letting the kiss take on a life of its own. Their lips moved, their bodies pressed together tightly, eyes closed- imagination taking the place of sight.

It was Erik who broke the kiss, pulling away suddenly and backing away from her. 'What are you doing?'

'Kissing you,'

'Raoul…'

'Don't, Erik,' she said, guilt pricking at her consciousness. 'Don't end this here, don't do this… if you push me away I will leave and I can never return, not again,'

Silence fell into the black night, and not for the first time she wished that the moon would appear to show the way. She sighed. 'I'll go, I'm sorry, Erik,'

A tear escaped.

'I'm_ so_ sorry,'

She moved past him and as she did he caught her arm and pulled her to him, their lips clashed in the darkness and this time the kiss was full of want, of desire… of _promise_. He lifted her from her feet, carrying her deeper into the darkness. The kiss was broken when he lay her down and though her eyes searched desperately for his face, she could not make it out.

When he knelt beside her she reached up and touched his cheek, in the absence of sight then she would use her hands… she would feel, and would sense, she would let the darkness envelope her, she would let it own her.

When his lips touched hers again she felt her spine tingle, her nerves stand up, she felt his hands on her arms, long fingers caressing her skin. She held her breath as they undressed each other and when his mouth explored her, she squeezed her eyes closed and let the sensation possess her.

Her heart pounded and her pulse roared as his mouth found hers again, and as they slowly made love, her soul crept back to her by one more step. He felt strong and yet soft, his warm mouth and yet cool hands, he was powerful and somehow gentle… there were so many contrasts that her body ached for more, though he could give her nothing else.

He was giving her everything as she wrapped herself around him, to hold him and keep him and as they shifted against each other she felt connected, not only physically but _completely_. The missing part of her puzzle, of the last few miserable months, found its place in her heart and she knew now, that to lose him was to lose herself.

Though they were hungry for each other, everything was slow and soothing, every movement, every gasp, every sound and every heart beat like a melody. It was everything.

_He_ was everything.

They slept that night, her head in the crook on his neck, his breath in her hair. She slept with peace and hope, with all of things that she thought that she had lost.

When she opened her eyes the next morning he was not there and the blanket beside her was cold, suggesting that he had been gone for quite some time. She sat up and looked around her, suddenly cold and afraid.

_Cold and alone_.

She thought about calling his name but she knew in her heart that he was not there, she knew that he was gone. She dressed slowly and as she did she realised that her dress smelled of him, it had that musky, earthy, clean scent that was unique to only him. A sob caught in her throat as she tugged on her shoes, and though her mind refused to allow her to cry, her heart had no such reservations and tears poured freely down her cheeks.

She arrived home later and rested on her bed, locking her door from the inside and staring at her ceiling. Remembering the feel of Erik's body, the sensation of his skin, she wept quietly. She knew that she should change her dress but the thought of washing away his smell was too agonizing to bear, and so she lay still and silent, in old clothes and the little traces of Erik that lingered on her.

When Raoul's voice pierced her solitude she simply closed her eyes and sighed, she knew that she had no choice now.

Erik was gone.

Raoul was all that was left and though he was a good man, he was a poor second to Erik. This was something she understood now. She knew that she could never expect anyone to understand and so it would forever be her secret, for her to keep and to cherish.

A memory, she knew, it would remain… she knew that she would never see him again and for that she could never forgive him, but she could continue to love him, if only in her memory of the moonless night.


End file.
